The Liability
by writeallnight
Summary: Stiles and Derek are "separately" hunting a rogue omega when things go awry for the token mortal of the group. Turns out being human definitely has its drawbacks when dealing with the supernatural.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well hello Teen Wolf fandom! I am woefully behind the times on this bandwagon because dang, this show is wonderful and I'm sad I didn't get to watch it live. But I'm here now and let's be honest, it's all about Stiles people. Stiles is the show. With Derek as a very close second. I'm super here for all the bromance of this show and what a delightful number of bromances there are!

And now, I present to you some wonderful Stiles whump. Enjoy!

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Derek had never committed straight out, unprovoked murder. But tonight he was seriously considering it. He stopped walking and the footsteps behind him stopped. He took three more steps and paused with the same effect. He started walking faster and the crunching footsteps followed, even louder this time. Finally he turned around. "You know I can hear you following me right? Literally all of Beacon Hills can hear you from here."

There was nothing but silence. "Stiles, I know you're there. I can smell you."

After several more seconds the offender stepped out from behind a tree. "First of all, I showered today, so I don't smell. Second of all, I'm not following you. You happen to be investigating what I'm investigating so my proximity to you is just a coincidence."

Derek smirked. "If you're investigating what I'm investigating, does that make you one step behind me?"

Stiles thought for a moment. "Or you're rushing ahead while I take the time to look at things with a more broad understanding."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Go home Stiles. I don't need your help."

Stiles jogged and caught up with him. "Are you sure? Scott loves my help."

"Well I'm not Scott."

"Obviously. Scott would never leave his pack behind and walk alone into the woods in the middle of the night searching for a rogue omega who's already injured two people."

"You mean like you're doing?"

"I'm not alone. I'm with you."

Derek strongly disagreed. "I don't need help. It's one omega. I'll track him down, take him out, end of story."

"But are you sure there isn't more to it? Do we have to just take him down? And how do you know it's a him? That's a little sexist. Girls can be werewolves too."

"Because I have supernatural abilities and you don't. Which makes it unsafe for you to be out here. So _go home_." He emphasized the last two words.

Stiles stopped walking as Derek continued on. "Fine!" he yelled. "But if you get into some kind of god awful werewolf skirmish where your limbs get ripped off don't come crying to m—"

There was a snarl, a flash of movement, and then a choked cry of pain. Derek whipped around to see Stiles pinned against a tree, the omega holding him there by his throat.

Derek let out a growl and sprang forward, knocking the offender off balance and away from Stiles. He slashed at its chest and throat, going for the kill rather than leave him to hurt another person in Beacon Hills. In return he took a bite to his shoulder and claws across his spine.

He roared in pain and threw his assailant into a tree. The omega squealed before loping off deeper into the woods. Derek got to his feet and began to follow, but there was a groan to his right and he remembered Stiles. The teen was lying prone on the ground. Chances were he'd be fine on his own now that the omega was on the run, but Scott would kill him if anything happened to his best friend. Derek walked toward him. "Stiles get up."

Stiles sat up, rubbing his head. "Well that was less than fun."

"Are you going to sit around all night?"

"Yes, I'm fine thanks for asking Derek," Stiles said acidly as he began to get to his feet. "Ow."

He pressed a hand to his stomach and when he pulled it away it was dark with blood. "Oh god."

Derek's own stomach lurched and his body moved with it. He went to his knees beside Stiles. "Lie down."

Stiles stared down at the blood covering his hand, a bewildered look on his face. "Is that…am I bleeding?"

"Stiles lie down!" Derek pushed him forcefully back into the dirt. He ripped apart his shirt and found deep claw marks scoring the flesh on the boy's abdomen, blood flowing from them at an alarming rate.

"Oh shit. This is bad right? Is this bad? Am I dying?" Stiles babbled. "Is this what dying feels like? I don't want to die here with you Derek. I don't even like you."

"Shut up," Derek growled as he pressed his hands against the torn flesh. "You're not dying."

Stiles let out a moan at the pressure and then continued to rasp out, "Am I turning? Didn't Peter say something about that once? I don't want to turn either! I'm very comfortable with the amount of body hair I already have."

"You're not turning! It's not that bad." That was kind of a lie. Derek didn't have a vast amount of experience with injured humans, and while this didn't seem instantly fatal, it didn't seem like a papercut either. There was a _lot_ of blood.

"I'm gonna throw up," Stiles said.

"No you're not. Take some deep breaths all right? We're going to get you out of here."

"It hurts when I breathe."

"Well at least that means you're not dead."

The bleeding wasn't stopping and Stiles' pale face was beginning to look even whiter in the moonlight. If they didn't do something fast things were going to take a turn for the worse. Derek didn't want to think what Scott would do when he found out his best friend had been torn to shreds on Derek's watch. He took a deep breath. "Hold this. Do not let go," he said. He put a wad of Stiles' torn shirt into the boy's hand and then pressed it against the wound.

"Where are you going?"

"Up. Come on. Get up." He hauled Stiles to his feet ignoring the grunts of pain and protest. "We have to get close enough to the road for cell service."

"My insides are hanging on my outside and you're worried about whether or not you can order a pizza?"

How could this kid be a hair from death and yet still so incredibly annoying? "No I'm worried about being able to call for help so I don't have to bite you and make you part of my pack. Because honestly I can't think of anything I want less in this life."

"Right back at ya buddy," Stiles said with a touch of actual venom in his voice. "If I'm joining anybody's pack as a wolf, it's Scott's."

"If you walk a little faster you won't have to join a pack at all," Derek snapped more harshly than he meant.

They stumbled through the undergrowth and Derek tried not to think about what would happen if the omega turned around came after them. He could feel his own wounds beginning to itch as they knit back together, but Stiles wouldn't be so lucky. In fact if anything, all this jostling about was going to make his injuries worse.

Stile's knees buckled and Derek stumbled as he took the boy's full weight. "Stiles, come on!"

"Sorry, I just, I need to sit for a second," he gasped.

Derek lowered him to the ground. Blood was streaming from the wounds even faster than before. "Oh geez. That's a lot of blood," Stiles said thickly, his eyes slightly unfocused.

"Don't look at it," Derek said. The fabric Stiles was holding was soaked with blood so he ripped off the bottom of his own shirt and pressed it into the wound. Stiles moaned in pain, his back arching against it. Derek felt a trickle of something, maybe compassion, maybe just straight up fear. "Hey, Stiles, come on. Pain makes us human. Tough it out."

"Easy for you to say. I'm the only one out here who's ever _been_ human," Stiles said between gritted teeth.

Some of the fight had come back into his eyes and Derek took that as a sign he was ready and hauled him to his feet again. They walked for ten more minutes before Derek began to hear the faint sounds of the road and then, as if by a miracle, they came across Stiles' jeep. "Oh thank god," he breathed moving a little bit faster.

He shoved Stiles into the passenger side, pressing the makeshift bandage further into the gaping flesh. "Hold it tight," he said firmly.

He jumped into the driver's side and hit the gas, fishtailing a little as they pulled onto the road. He managed to get his phone out of his pocket and dial Scott. It went straight to voicemail. "Scott it's me. Come to hospital. It's Stiles."

He glanced over at Stiles to see his eyes closed, mouth slightly open. "Stiles! Hey! Talk to me! Don't go to sleep!"

His eyes opened blearily. "I thought you wanted me to shut up."

"Not right now. Talk. About something. Anything. Come on. Tell me how much you hate me."

"I hate you."

"How much?"

"A lot."

"Why?"

There was no response. "Stiles come on! Why do you hate me?"

"You stink," Stiles mumbled.

"And what else?"

"You're a pompous asshole."

Derek nodded. "True."

"You stole my best friend."

Derek looked at him sharply. "What?"

But Stiles didn't answer. His head flopped forward and the hand that had been keeping the wound closed slid down until blood began dripping onto the seat.

"Shit!" Derek hit the gas and took them flying into the parking lot of the hospital. "Stiles wake up!" he growled as he pulled him from the car.

He burst through the hospital doors and his eyes landed on Melissa McCall. Blessed Melissa McCall who would know what to do. Who would know how to fix this. "He's bleeding out!" he said desperately.

"Call Dr. Morton!" Melissa ordered as Derek laid Stiles on a gurney. "What happened?"

"It was an omega," Derek said quietly. "He's lost a lot of blood."

"What about you?" Her eyes glanced over the gashes in his shirt and side.

"I'm healing. Take care of Stiles."

Five seconds later they were gone and Derek was left alone. He sank down into a chair. He had no obligation to wait. Stiles wasn't his pack. But something kept him glued to the seat. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was some kind of loyalty to Scott. Or maybe it was the way Stiles had looked while unconscious in the car, so helpless and broken. Whatever it was, Derek stayed until Melissa came and found him.

"Derek?"

"How is he?" he asked, trying not to sound too anxious.

"He lost a lot of blood. He's pretty weak. But they were able to fix the damage. He's lucky that thing missed his vital organs. He'll be all right."

Derek exhaled. "I was standing right there. I told him to go. If I'd just paid more attention…" the words tumbled from his lips unbidden. Apparently he felt guiltier than he'd thought.

She touched his hand. "You got him here in time. You saved his life."

It had been so long since he'd had a mom he'd almost forgotten what it felt like. Her assurance soothed his broken spirit.

"Come on." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up."

He rose and then looked around, aware that someone was missing. "Where's the sheriff?"

"He's out of town. I called him and he's on his way back. Probably speeding if I know him."

Derek nodded tiredly, wincing as the still tender wounds on his back pulled. "You're sure you're okay?" Melissa asked.

Physically he was fine. Emotionally…he wasn't sure yet. But he'd already said more than he'd meant to. He took a breath and shoved his feelings back down where they belonged. "Yeah, I'm good."

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A/N: Hope you liked it! Leave your love in the reviews!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I love Stiles so much. Couldn't resist doing the rest of the story from his perspective! Enjoy!

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It felt like there was a hole in his chest. Like a really, _really_ big hole that someone had filled with fire. And knives. And acid. And….

His eyes cracked open and he took in the familiar sight (god when did it become familiar?) of the hospital ceiling. There was a strong smell of antiseptic and something was beeping nearby. Probably something keeping him alive.

He lifted a hand to rub his eyes and found it connected to an IV. Ah. Something bad had happened to him. There were flashes of it niggling at the corner of his mind but honestly, he was pretty sure he didn't want to remember it.

"This is your fault!" someone hissed.

His fuzzy brain recognized his best friend's voice, but the one that answered him was a bit more of a surprise. "I didn't ask him to come with me!" Derek Hale spat back in a harsh whisper.

Stiles forced his eyes open a little wider to find the two werewolves on either side of his bed. They were glaring at each other and both had their hands clenched into fists. Apparently there was a whisper fight going on.

"He's a human! He doesn't have any way to protect himself!" Scott said.

"Well then maybe you shouldn't let a member of your pack wander the woods alone in the middle of the night."

"He wasn't alone, he was with you. That makes him your responsibility!"

Stiles shifted in the bed and his breath caught in his throat as the fire in his belly burned even hotter. It caught the attention of both wolves. "Stiles!" Scott sat down next to him, all his attention turning to his friend. "Hey, are you okay?"

"If by okay you mean basically ripped in half then yeah, I'm good," Stiles gasped. "Holy jeez that smarts."

"Take it easy," Scott said. "Do you want me to call my mom?"

"You lost a lot of blood," Derek said. "Most of it's in your car."

"Really dude?" Scott asked.

"How bad is it?" Stiles asked. "How much time do I have? Are we talking days here? Weeks?"

"It's just stitches," Derek said. "There was barely any internal bleeding at all."

"Barely any is too much for someone who's mortal!" Scott snapped.

"I got him here in time didn't I?"

"As touching as it is to have you both fighting over my deathbed," Stiles began.

"You're not dying!" they both snarled at the same time.

"Right okay, well it kind of feels like I am so maybe we could do something about the pain here since you both have, you know, a magical ability to suck away the agony?" Stiles asked, his breath coming in short gasps as sweat beaded on his forehead.

Scott immediately put a hand on his shoulder and the pain slowly began to ebb away. "Thanks," he said, willing his body to stop shaking. "What happened?"

"You followed me. The omega attacked. But don't worry. Isaac and Boyd caught up with him. He won't be hurting anybody else."

Stiles grimaced. A dead werewolf was better than dead citizens of Beacon Hills, but it still wasn't a pleasant outcome. Scott wasn't too happy either judging by the way his hand tightened on Stiles' shoulder.

"Is uh, is my dad here?" Stiles asked. He felt pretty terrible and as nice as it was to have his best friend by his side, his dad was the one he really wanted to see right now, even if seeing him meant a pretty thorough argument about his involvement with the supernatural and its tendency to interfere with his health.

"He's on his way. Should be here any minute," Scott said.

"That's good. Anyway we could not tell him about how I nearly bled out and died?"

"It'll be all right," Scott said.

"Thanks for that, by the way," Stiles said, looking at Derek. "You kind of saved my life back there."

"Yeah well, don't let it happen again," Derek said.

"Definitely not planning on getting disemboweled again anytime soon," Stiles said.

There was a scuffle of feet in the hallway and his dad appeared. There were dark circles under his eyes and Stiles felt a wave of guilt. He'd been all the way in Sacramento for a conference and being woken up at three am had clearly taken its toll. "Stiles," he said, his voice weary. "What…?"

"We'll give you a minute," Derek said.

Scott let go of Stiles' shoulder and the pain came back immediately, making his stomach roll unpleasantly. He swallowed it down as his dad took another step into the room. "Dad, I'm okay."

"You sure as hell are not okay." The sheriff sank down into the chair Scott had vacated. "Stiles…"

"I know what you're going to say, but I'm not going to do it. Scott needs me. The pack needs me. I'm not going to stop helping them just because it might result in permanent disfigurement," Stiles said quickly.

"Stiles come on! You can't keep doing stuff like this. You're not superhuman!"

"Neither are you!" Stiles shouted, wincing as his stitches pulled.

"I'm the Sheriff. I'm trained to deal with situations like this."

"Like what? Things with fangs? Magical glowing eyes? Is that a course they offer at the police academy? Because as far as I see it, the only difference between me hunting this shit and you hunting it is that you have a gun. Which, in case you hadn't noticed, turns out to be useless on a pretty regular basis."

He was tired and in pain and the words came out sharper than he'd intended. His dad rubbed a hand across his face. "I just don't want to lose you," he whispered. "I can't lose you Stiles."

"I don't want to lose you either," Stiles said, the fight draining out of him as the pain grew more intense. "That's why I'm doing this. To keep Beacon Hills safe. To keep all of us safe."

He winced and his dad leaned closer. "Are you hurting?"

"Nah, it's not that bad." That was a lie. It was like freaking being roasted on a hot poker.

"I'll get the nurse."

Stiles thought about arguing, but with his best friend/pain reliever gone things were starting to become a bit unbearable. And if he was hurting his dad wouldn't go home. And if his dad didn't go home, then they would either fight or sit in a super tense silence and Stiles just wasn't up to either.

The drugs had him drifting in and out for most of the day. When he finally really woke up he guessed it was between midnight and one am. He blinked a couple times trying to clear his head, willing his body to shift in the bed without pulling at his stitches.

That was when his eyes found the corner of the room and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. "Shit! What the hell Derek?!"

The werewolf was standing moodily in the darkened corner, his arms crossed over his chest. "God damn it you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Stiles croaked. Now his stitches were definitely pulling and his pain had doubled. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"You almost got shredded on my watch," Derek said. "I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"By standing in the dark and watching me sleep like some kind of stalker?"

"It's kind of my thing," Derek said, cracking half a smile.

"Yeah well…it's creepy," Stiles grumbled. "Ow." He put hand to his chest wishing it would alleviate the sharp agony that came with every breath he took. Or the ache in his head. Or the soreness of his muscles. He wasn't picky. Any kind of relief would be welcome.

"You're hurting," Derek took a step toward him, his eyes flashing in the dark.

"Yeah, well, mortal and all that," Stiles said, struggling to sit up a little more. "Aren't visiting hours over?"

"Does that matter?" Derek asked.

"I guess you've never really been a rule follower," Stiles said. "Why are you here Derek?"

"I told you. I wanted to make sure you were all right." Derek shifted against the wall and his eyes wouldn't quite meet Stiles'.

Stiles realized what was going on. "You feel guilty."

"What?"

"You feel bad that the omega got me. That you didn't stop it."

Derek glared at him for a moment. "Okay. Fine. Yes. I feel…a little guilt that I didn't send you home when I first sensed you. I shouldn't have let you follow me so far."

"I make my own choices."

"And it's my job to make sure they don't come back to bite you in the ass."

The words seemed to surprise even Derek. "Okay…" Stiles said slowly.

"Look, you're not my pack. But you're part of Scott's pack and Scott is…kind of like family. Which makes you kind of like family." Derek's jaw clenched. "I don't let people mess with my family."

Stiles didn't have much to say to that. He wasn't sure how he felt about Derek watching his back.

"My turn," Derek said, apparently done with the emotional stuff. "What did you mean when you said I stole your best friend?"

Stiles' memory of the car ride to the hospital was hazy and part of him had hoped he'd imagined those words slipping past his lips in some kind of pain induced hallucination. Apparently not. "I don't know," he said uncomfortably. "Nothing. I was just mad and in pain."

"You're lying."

"Stop smelling me!"

"Can't help it." Derek raised his eyebrows. "So? What did you mean?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do."

"God, Derek, just leave me alone!"

"Not until you tell me what you meant."

"Scott was my best friend!" The words tore from his throat and he swallowed hard, annoyed at the tears that filled his eyes. "He was my best friend because we were the same. We had the same problems. We had the same kind of life. And then you all came along and turned him into some sort of freaking super human and I'm just…me. Still human. Before, I could help him. Now I'm just…a liability. And someday," he swallowed hard, "someday he'll probably decide he doesn't need me anymore. I'm not a wolf so I'm not really pack. I'm just a leftover."

His headache was growing worse the longer he tried to hold back tears. Why the hell was he pouring his heart out to Derek? The guy didn't even like him.

"You're not a leftover," Derek said quietly. "You are human. But that doesn't make you a liability."

"Says the one who healed from his injuries hours ago," Stiles sniped.

"For what it's worth, I'm not sorry that Scott received the bite." Derek paused. "But I am sorry that it changed things between you."

Stiles felt drained and he took in a sharp breath as pain stabbed through his chest. "Just leave me alone Derek," he said between gritted teeth.

Derek took three steps across the room and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder. The pain began to ebb immediately and Stiles felt his eyes grow instantly heavy. "You don't have to do that," he mumbled as sleep began to take him away.

"I know," Derek said. But he planted himself in a chair next to the bed and held on anyway.

"Thanks for saving my life," Stiles said, his eyes closed.

"Don't get used to it." But Derek's voice was soft and even had a teasing sound? Stiles' brain must be making things up. But still, somehow, he felt better.

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A/N: Leave your love in the reviews!


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